Say it (Words Unsaid, Demons Untamed)
by MaybeItsJustMyType
Summary: *****Chapter one: Say it!*** POV Sherlock*****Reaching out, she clasped his hands in her own, "I didn't love him Sherlock," her voice a soft caress, comforting. -Pity? No, he would not be pitied. "You love me." He stated, as much - if not more for himself. -Shaking her head, she raised an eyebrow at him, her meaning clear; not in love.


This is the first of two jealous!lock, connected one-shots that I wrote for thescienceofsherlolly on Tumblr.

~o0oo0oo0o~

This first will cover Sherlock's POV...

* * *

 **Say It**

Sherlock seethed with rage, his blood boiled in his veins, it was a miracle tendrils of steam weren't escaping from his pores.

Moriarty's taunts still rung in his ears, images cascaded through his mind, clicking from one to the next rapid-fire, like scenes in a hyper-active child's view-finder - click - Moriarty, his filthy little hands on Molly's waist as he kissed her deeply - click - Molly crying Jim in orgasmic abandon - click - Molly, riding Moriarty, adoration shining in her dark eyes -click - Moriarty taking her from behind, Molly bent over her couch, screaming her pleasure - click - Moriarty's fingers expertly twirling her nipples like radio dials, filling her ears with murmurs of encouragement in his charming Irish lilt inciting her to let go and roar - click -

Pressing his lips together determinedly, he gusted a breath out of his nose and waved away the personal theatre his mind had conjured. Molly belonged to him.

Squaring his shoulders, he gave the handle on her door a quick twist and pushed it open.

The moment the door made contact with the wall she bolted upright screaming, a blood curdling sound worthy of any b-grade horror movie queen.

Casting his gaze like a net over the room, he took in everything, including Molly's breasts.

Utilising every ounce of his formidable iron will, he turned away from the truly devastating sight of an exposed Molly Hooper to perform a perfunctory check of the wardrobe and under the bed. His expectations ran more in the direction of finding a bug rather than an actual grinning, maniacal Moriarty so he was unsurprised to find nothing.

Fear flashed in her eyes as she asked, "Has there been a development?" Briefly looking down, she flushed and pulled the covers up to her chin, "With Ji- Moriarty?" clearly embarrassed by her faux pas, she shrank further down.

Once more anger surged, rising like a foul tide, as he realised with a start that she was shielding herself from him. Keeping his eyes on her, he pinned her in place with his searing stare, not even trying to cloak the stampede of dark emotions he felt, while he removed his gloves and coat.

Screwing his fists into the duvet as he sat down, he glared at her, willing her to drop the offending blanket.

Eyes wide as she watched him, she made a strangled noise before quickly covering her mouth.

This was intolerable; unbridled fury rampaged its way through him, threatening to completely overwhelm.

"Are you okay Sherlock?" Her voice passive and her features soft.

She was trying to placate him.

Adrenalin and anger made for a heady mix as he watched her, urging her with his eyes to drop that damn blanket.

Finally he bit out, "Why can't I see?"

"I'm sorry?" Her nose scrunched in that annoying - adorable - way it did when she was confused.

Outrageous, he marvelled, almost impressed, she really is going to play coy?

"Are you though?" He asked, managing to keep his voice even - just. "You don't seem to be releasing the covers."

"Wh-What?" Panic danced in her eyes and he was glad, why should he be the only one to suffer.

Do not even try to pretend you do not understand Molly Hooper.

"See what?" She asked, her breathy tone reminiscent of a frightened child.

Tilting his head, he clenched his jaw, fighting to retain emotional control, "You."

She sat unmoving, wary, like a deer caught in headlights.

Oh this was rapidly advancing to ridiculous, was she playing a game?

Drawing in a breath, he released it slowly, moderating his tone was a task but he managed it, "Moriarty saw you, yet you will not allow me?"

Molly all but choked on this.

Heart thudding painfully in his chest, his confidence and surety regarding her feelings dissolved like a tissue dropped in a puddle, Was she not? Had he read her wrong?

Horrified, he heard himself begging, "Molly," her name exposed him, the tone far too tender, humiliation burned.

Without warning, she lowered the blanket.

His throat, now dry, clicked as he swallowed. Oh God, she was beautiful, pale skin, dappled in moonlight, breasts high and firm, sweet pastel pink nipples standing erect, begging for his touch.

Seemingly of its own will, his hand reached out, realising, he snatched it back, teeth snapping together painfully as he became aware of his open mouthed ogling. He felt like a child caught spying.

Unable to contain himself, he asked a silent question with his eyes, Please, please Molly, let me touch you, I cannot bear it if you won't.

Reaching out, she clasped his hands in her own, when she kissed each palm in turn he had to fight the urge to groan aloud.

"I didn't love him Sherlock," her voice a soft caress, comforting.

Pity? No, he would not be pitied.

"You love me." He stated, as much - if not more for himself.

Shaking her head, she raised an eyebrow at him, her meaning clear; not in love.

She meant to imply that she loved him as a friend but even he knew friends don't kiss each other's hands and bare themselves; John wouldn't hesitate to punch him if he suggested that Mary might show her breasts.

Time to prove Molly Hooper wrong.

Gracing her with that smile she always melted for, he leaned in, noting with triumph her dilated pupils and accelerated breathing. He pressed his lips to hers softly, his attention partially derailed by finally having her breasts fitting into his hands, they were exquisite.

She moaned and desire bloomed, squeezing his stomach in its fist, he needed to taste her. Opening his mouth, he sought her tongue with his own.

When did his tongue develop nerve endings that connected directly to his cock?

Molly loomed above him, popping open his shirt buttons. Her nipples pebbled under his fingers and it was so good.

Trapping his arms in his shirt - with intent, judging by her expression - she looked at him as though he was a particularly decadent dessert.

Twitching impatiently in his pants, his prick wondered when it might be invited to join.

Obviously she'd become a mind reader as barely a second passed before she took him out of his trousers and licked the head of his leaking cock.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he swayed from the unexpected pleasure of her tongue tracing outlines around the glans of his cock. Without a word of warning she took him into her mouth; more accurately, she'd taken him right down her throat.

Intense pleasure surged through his body when she swallowed around him - something he'd only ever seen when borrowing John's laptop. The sensations of his physical body took over, leaving him lost in a sea of bliss.

Opening his eyes, vision blurry and a vague sense of having called out but not completely certain whether he had. Looking down, he saw Molly bent in half as she worked his cock in and out of her warm, wet mouth, her waist and arse forming a gorgeous heart shape. It was the single most feminine and sexy thing Sherlock had ever seen in his entire life.

"Oh God, Molly." If he didn't stop her it was going to be finished before it had begun, "Molly, please, I don't - "

Concentrating very hard on keeping his orgasm at bay, he clung on while she let his cock slide free of her mouth, humming to herself in satisfaction.

Smiling happily, she nodded, before setting to work freeing his hands.

Each breath came harsh and heavy as she took his wrists in turn and kissed them sensuously, he was unable to hide his pleasure, moans slipping from his lips. His shirt and watch were dealt with and it was so incredibly sexy he was beginning to wonder who was seducing whom.

Needing to regain the upper hand - any power, she had it all - he insisted, "You do love me." Surely she wouldn't deny it?

Hiking a shoulder up slightly, she dismissed it easily, as though the matter was of no importance either way. Surging up, she climbed into his lap.

Exposed, his eyes caught on her triangle of light brown hair, pointing to nirvana. Then she was straddling him and he could touch.

Figuring out where to place his hands was an impossibility, he wanted everything. His hands roamed freely, her skin gliding like satin under his fingertips, her beauty so appealing as he traced her all over, committing her to memory.

Hearing Molly gasp, his pride bloomed, He did that to her, he was making her cunt wet and - Oh.

Rocking herself back and forth, her pussy was silky and slick against his shaft.

It was divine but he needed...more. his hands felt solid around her tiny waist, adding weight and increasing their friction.

"Molly?" Lost in a haze of desire, his only coherent thought was how easily he could lift her on to his hard cock.

"Yes - Sherlock?" Her voice little more than a whisper, hips orbiting mercilessly.

Forcing himself to regain his equilibrium, his voice pure steel, "Tell me you love me."

"I love your, ah, your cock," in retaliation, he ground her down as hard as he could and thrust up at the same time.

"Tell me, Molly," he gritted out from between clenched teeth; releasing her hips he reached up and pinched her nipples, hard.

"I love your hands," she told him, back bowed in pleasure, clearly straining with the effort, "Just looking at them makes me wet," her sex was still caressing his cock, stroke by stroke.

"Say it Molly," his voice cracking as he ran his palms firmly up and down her back.

"I love your pretty mouth, I want it on my cunt," as she threw her head back.

His only coherent thought was to wonder if such a coarse word coming out of her sweet mouth could make him orgasm.

Flipping her over, he lay her on her back and bit into her luscious breasts again and again, to their mutual delight. He relished every gasp, her fluttering eyelids and the full body arch that lifted her clear off the bed.

Beautiful, she was dazzling like this, he needed to hear her say it.

"Tell. Me. You. Love. Me."

She caught his eyes, trapping them in the endless depths of her own and informed him breathlessly, "I love your beautiful eyes, the way you look at the world like you're - ooohhhh."

Why wouldn't she? She had to -

The smell of her desire unleashed a beast from within, he took to her clit like an animal, sucking, and when that wasn't enough, he pushed two fingers inside - She was his.

Molly thrashed around, crying out, "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhhh."

She had never been so beautiful.

Molly's hips bucked up toward him, seeking more, her back arched.

She was utterly undone, by him.

With his hand splayed over her stomach he held her down, stopping when her moans became blasphemes and pleas.

Looking up the length of her torso, he instructed her once again, "Tell me you love me Molly."

Holding her gaze, he sucked on his fingers, humming in approval as he did so, his lids half closing in pleasure.

Regarding him, her eyes inky pools, she swore, breath coming sharp and fast, "I love your mind."

He smiled slowly, appreciating her defiant nature. He stood and slid his trousers down his thighs, kicking off his shoes, he yanked each of his socks off in a smooth motion.

His cock was bobbing up and down, yes, yes, yes.

Climbing back onto the bed, he knelt between her legs but did not touch her. He waited until she was watching him, then he started stroking himself. He passed the palm of his hand over the blunt head and gathered the moisture that had gathered, then began to pump his fist up and down.

Feeling rather pleased with himself, he enjoyed her reaction; his deduction had been correct, Molly liked to watch.

She swore and licked her lips, her eyes were filled with him; she looked utterly undone.

His eyes held hers as he sped up, brushing his thumb over the sensitive, engorged head with each stroke, smearing the milky fluid and tucking away each desperate sound he pulled from her. Sinking into the feeling, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back, groaning with abandon, "Oh, Molly."

Molly whimpered and opening his eyes he found hers flicking from his cock to his face and back again.

Grinning, he leaned back and widening his thighs in invitation, asked, "Do you want me inside you?"

Clearly struggling now to keep her cool, she had to consciously make an effort to speak, "Yes."

"Tell me you love me and I'll sink into you and fuck you so hard you'll see stars when you come. I will pound into your sweet little cunt. So. Fucking. Hard."

Whispering, eyes closed in defence, "No."

She was so wilful, his Molly.

Laughter bubbled up, rumbling through his chest, "Oh Molly, you're going to say it."

Watching through hooded, needy eyes, he observed her hand snaking down, when she was just about to graze her clit with her searching fingers he grasped her wrist, "Just tell me you love me Molly, and I'll make you feel so very good."

Head whirling from side to side like a child denying taking the illicit last biscuit, breath gusting, "You say it," she blustered defiantly. "I love your arse, I think about biting it, all - the - time."

As his face split into a grin, he realised he was enjoying this little game, "I know you do, I think about biting your breasts and fucking you until you scream yourself hoarse." To punctuate his point, he dotted her breasts with nips and scraped his teeth across her sensitive nipples.

Her reaction was gorgeous, body dissolving into pleasure, exploring their various kinks together was going to be fun.

"Oh, that feels so good, you're so clever Sherlock."

Pride had his lips curving against her breast as he pulled a nipple between his teeth, rolling it over his tongue, letting the fear that he would sink his teeth in send a jolt of heat to her clit and very nearly sending her over the edge.

Her cries were unintelligible, hips rocked erratically and her head whipped from side to side, "Please, please," she rasped.

Sherlock drank her in thirstily, she was an angel like this, a goddess of sensuality. His eyes swept up and down her body, the flat planes of her stomach rising up into firm mounds of flesh, reddened, deliciously, where he'd bitten and claimed her.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he pushed in, slick heat, so welcoming, embraced him.

Her mouth fell open as he watched, fisting the sheet under her, "Oh God, Sherlock, oh you feel so fucking good."

Her velvet channel massaged his cock as he moved in and out slowly, each stroke taking him deeper.

Eyes trained on her, he leaned on one elbow and used his free hand to smooth his palm down over her chest; beginning at her collarbone, snaking down between her breasts and over her stomach.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she submitted to him entirely.

When he reached her pubic bone he smoothed his hand back and forth, her skin soft under his firm touch.

Molly's eyes flicked open and caught his, biting his lip in an echo of what he had done to her breasts, he asked, "Do you want to me to fuck you hard Molly?"

Nodding emphatically, hips bucking, "Yes," her voice barely audible.

He squeezed the firm flesh on her abdomen, hardening his voice, "Then say it." Searching her eyes for a sign she was going to stop fighting the inevitable.

She was utterly adrift in a sea of physical bliss, "Please, please, please, I need - "

His eyes closed momentarily, the desperation in her tone taking him far too close to the edge.

Neither of them moved for a long moment, the air was dense, the smell of sex thick and the unspoken words heavy.

Sherlock sighed and a wave of despair washed over him, with it came a cruel thought in an all too familiar, horrid sing-song Irish lilt, Maybe she just wants to impale herself on your cock, handsome, she couldn't get enough of mine, maybe dear, sweet Molly just likes to fuck.

With a roar that primal part of his brain - the very part responsible for his being here tonight at all - snarled, Mine, his eyes swept over her. This had to end now, she was his, not Moriarty's.

Draping her legs over his shoulders, he thrust brutally into her again and again, he needed to fuck Moriarty right out of her, erase him from her memories and her body. Each stroke going deeper, he wanted her to feel things she never had, he needed to be her best, her only.

Slicking his fingers across her clit, desperately trying to block thoughts about whether or not Moriarty had done this to her - for her.

In a haunted tone, she finally relented, "I don't want to love you when you won't love me back."

She called to him as she lost herself in waves of pleasure and it was so beautiful and sexy and loving; his name had never sounded better.

Triumph surged, she had given him what she had refused Moriarty.

Turning her head away, she whispered, "I do love you."

Love for her encompassed him entirely. "Molly."

She met his eyes and whispered, "You just feel so good Sherlock," sounding as though she had just gifted him her soul as a keepsake.

Flying, his body was awash in a sea of love; he knew it was chemistry but it was her, his love, his life. Her body and mind called to him and he wanted to show her, even if he couldn't tell her, he could let her see.

His orgasm was intense yet gentle, perfectly summing up his love for her, "Molly, my Molly."

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, hurt magnified by the nascent tears on her lashes, she sighed and turned her head away -again.

Easing himself off guiltily, he knew he'd pushed too far. He ran his hands through his hair as his stomach whooshed; a tiny seed of fear blooming into a tree, its roots climbing into his throat and radiating out through his limbs. Overcome with panic, he was completely unable to figure what to do; he could lose her.

"I'm not your Molly though am I? You're here because Jim played with your toy and you do not like to share." Her voice was tired, broken. "Why did you make me say it Sherlock?"

"I wanted - " Unable to think of any defence that would be acceptable, he looked down, shame curdling his stomach.

"You wanted your ego stroked, to be number one, to take more than Jim was given," she sat up and pushing off the bed to a standing position in one fluid motion, her voice was curiously flat when she continued, "Congratulations, you won, now get out."

A terror previously unknown unfurled itself from its coil low in his belly, "But Molly I - "

Standing in front of him, not hiding herself, she demanded in a robotic tone, "Do you love me? Say it or get out,"

Anguished, he scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms, "I can't, I -"

Devoid of emotion, her cold brown eyes stared at him, goading him to look.

His gaze moved slowly over her, he could see her now and he'd gotten what he came for but oh, what an empty, pyrrhic victory it was. When he finally met her eyes he saw an absence there that frightened and thrilled him in equal measure, he had always loved a challenge.

Barking a sardonic laugh, Molly turned on her heel and walked out, tossing over her shoulder as she went, "You can see yourself out, I'm having a shower, I expect you will be gone when I return."

~o0oo0oo0o~

Sherlock sat on the bed, his mind spun in all directions, he was angry with himself; he'd taken this too far, his need to be number one in Molly's heart did not outweigh the pain that she was now feeling.

I should go, I'll call Mary and she won't be alone, she'll be safe.

Standing up he turned and grabbed his trousers, mind already planning the cataloguing of these memories; he stopped short, trousers hanging from his hand, forgotten. A sharp pain threaded through his chest at the thought of assigning this experience a place in his mind palace only to never again experience it.

Flinging the trousers away, he stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door against the shower cubicle.

Starting, Molly looked at him with wide eyes, her hand hovered over her chest, bubbles migrated south over her shiny skin, combining with her natural scent and creating that gorgeous Molly smell.

"I can't say it, he'll know and he promised to burn the heart out of me," his words stumbled out, tripping over each other, focussing on his feet, he forced himself to continue. "Look at what he did to John, what would he do to you? I can't lose you but I won't let him hurt you. Do you see? He'll know," his voice was a whisper, the words wrenched from a place where the doors were rusted and warped from neglect and disuse.

The only answer was a sob, followed by silence and his heart sank, he wouldn't look, he couldn't look, his eyes closed in defeat. There was nothing more he could do, he deserved this, what he hadn't deserved was the love she had already freely given.

Needing to regain his equilibrium, he stood for a moment breathing carefully, his heart lanced.

A drop of water appeared on his third toe, closely followed by another on the pinky toe of his opposite foot. A wet hand slid over his chest and hovered over his heart.

"You don't have to say it, so long as you feel it?" Her voice was quiet and gentle.

He bobbed his head up and down, hopeful but still unwilling to open his eyes.

"Sherlock?" Her voice spilled over with joy.

Opening his eyes he saw Molly looking at him with more love than he ever would have believed possible, he smiled, hopeful.

"Kiss me."

* * *

Who's up for Molly's POV?

~o0oo0oo0o0o~

Tumblr? Come and find me... sweet-sweet-escape


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